


What Lies Above Us

by wordsinbetween



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Gen, M/M, interstellar au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-08
Updated: 2014-12-08
Packaged: 2018-02-28 14:41:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2736362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordsinbetween/pseuds/wordsinbetween
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabble collection in my Stargate/Interstellar universe. The plot is taken from Interstellar, but the characters will be from both Atlantis and SG-1. The Stargate doesn't exist, complete AU but I will try to stay as true to the characters as I can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Lies Above Us

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, here's the first part of my big project. I'll be uploading random drabbles in my Stargate/Interstellar universe and adding them here. Eventually I'm hoping for a full-length type fic, but we'll see. I'll add character and other tags as I add on to it.
> 
> Based on Interstellar's plot, will follow it mostly but things will be altered for the characters. The Stargate doesn't exist. If you haven't seen the film... well, you really, really should.

His dreams come like the dust, overwhelming and suffocating, holding on for too long and blocking out the light.

John wakes with beads of sweat traveling down his forehead, lying prone on his back and staring up at the ceiling. As his breathing evens out, he turns his face towards the window, watching the dim morning light start to peek out from under the curtains.

The old floors creak under his feet as he swings his legs off the side and stands, running a hand through his sweat-damp hair. He walks to the bathroom in the bleak light, turning on the tap and the light switch. He grimaces as the water runs brown for the first few seconds before finally clearing up. There’s only so much they can do to keep the dirt out, the filters replaced every month and the leaky pipes tightened over and over again. But the dust is soft and so fine that it sneaks into every corner; by now it’s just something they’ve come to terms with.

He splashes water on his face, trying to wake himself up, scrubbing at his eyes but the dirt is persistent.

As the sun starts to cast morning shadows across the floor, he tiptoes past the next bedroom and makes his way towards the staircase. The door is cracked open but the room is still, the kids piled into bed with Teyla, faces tucked beneath the blanket and fast asleep.

Ronon walks into the kitchen five minutes after John’s started the coffeemaker, the brew sweetening the air. He grabs the cereal box sitting on top of the fridge, taking a bowl out of the cabinet and quickly rinsing it off before pouring himself a serving. Even things hidden away in storage don’t escape the dust. As he goes to sit at the table, Ronon snags a dishtowel out of the drawer, picking up the overturned plates on the table’s surface. One by one, he wipes them clean, setting them back down right-side up.

John doesn’t watch Ronon, instead he stares out the small kitchen window, watching the fields blow in the wind that never seems to stop. He doesn’t watch because they do this every morning, the same routine. Coffee, breakfast, turn over the plates. Wipe them down. Wait for the children to bound down the stairs, the little one starting to cough more and more each day. Teyla’s tired smile, Ronon’s worried presence. John just makes the coffee and looks out the window, lets his eyes drift up to the sky.

Clear blue skies are rare these days, but some nights when the Earth has stilled and the clouds clear out, he can see constellations circling high above their little farmhouse.


End file.
